Genevieve passed through into the Ossuary’s tunnels and followed the snaking paths until she reached a crevice with a convenient stone for sitting and settled in. Vampires had very good hearing, and from this position, she could hear the comings and goings of those who went in and out of the Ossuary. She called it her “listening post” and she had several places in the Ossuary she would sit and listen to those around her without being seen. Sometimes she did rounds through the Ossuary, making sure that no one was causing trouble or bothering those who could not speak against them.
She watched the Ossuary dwellers come and go, creeping up to the doors and humbly requesting to go and feed or complaining to the guards that the policies were unfair. She also saw those who were able to come and go without any questions—the aristocrats of vampire society, those who did not live in the Ossuary but came to view their creations and walk among the rabble.
Many nights, it was a fruitless endeavor, sitting alone in the dark. But some nights, she got lucky. Like tonight. Under the far-off, rattling roar of the Underground that had become a regular occurrence, she heard someone snap, “—Suppose we’ll just have to try again with a quicker dagger this time!”
The corners of Genevieve’s mouth turned down in grim unsurprise.
“It isn’t wise,” a woman replied. She sounded as if she were trying hard to hold on to her temper.
Genevieve’s eyes widened. She knew that voice—everyone did. For all Genevieve’s time as a vampire, that voice had been synonymous with the Draugodrottin’s. Gisela, the prior master’s woman.
“You’ll just let him sit on Rupert’s throne?—”
“Let, after three attempts, the last only a week ago? We need a new approach.”
Footfalls came closer, and Genevieve stood and pressed hard against the side of the passage.See me not. See me not.
The woman passed close enough for her to feel the whisper of her gown, and the man carried a cane that he tapped nervously against the pavement. She did not recognize the man. After they passed, she turned and followed.
The man insisted, “If we could get a large enough group together, rather than just one or two at a time?—”
“And what if he takes us all out in one fell swoop? What then, Horace?” Gisela asked in a flat voice as the train noises died away.
There was no answer. After dying once, vampires became very cowardly about the process.
Horace. Genevieve didn’t know that name. it was possible it wasn’t the name the man was currently using. Her old master had commanded her to address him as “Bacchus,” but his name had originally been Cuthbert.
Gisela continued. “He is gathering people to him. Etienne Flambeau, Dominic Penrose, Joseph?—”
“Joseph? That traitor?—”
“He was always too soft. But Kendrick’s support is growing.”
“So we must strike now, before he grows stronger?—”
Gisela snapped, “We’renotdiscussing this here. Come.” She turned down the path that would lead out of the Ossuary.
Genevieve stayed still and silent until she could no longer hear them.
Kendrick had shown no inclination to take on any of the problems that beset the Ossuary—a bitter pill to swallow—but neither had he exerted his will in any onerous way over its inhabitants. And if he passed out of existence, one ofthemwould take his place.
A phrase written on a wall in a language that no one else could read was too weak to hang her hopes on. It had simply been a quote from the poem “Widsith,” after all, something to counter Rupert’s rough declaration of power.
But how had he known it? Was he a scholar, or was he really as old as the Exeter Book that contained the only version of the poem? And oh, if it had been a portent, a true promise…
“‘Þæt wæs god cyning,’” she murmured to herself.That was a good king.
Genevieve patted her pockets. She had just enough of a newspaper left to leave one more note.
ChapterSeven
Kendrick pulled the ribbon from his hair as he stalked down the Ossuary’s corridor, spearing his fingers through his hair in frustration.
After fencing with Dominic, he had spent several more hours scouring likely doss houses by the Ossuary entrances and any other likely places for female vampires to find opportune meals, but he hadn’t picked up any scent from the notes he had received. Frustrating in the extreme. He had forgotten how London teemed with humans, over three million of them and adding more all the time from workers pouring in from the country, immigrants from overseas, and the high fecundity of all people everywhere.
Hehadmanaged to learn the extent of his domain well during these nightly rambles, he admitted to himself, loosening the cloth around his neck. Some small benefit.
He mentally reviewed the notes he had received once more:
